Work Text:
“I’m not going to the Arctic Circle.”
Raoul stood firm as Philippe whirled around, bracing himself for his older brother’s verbal onslaught. Philippe did not disappoint. “Stop being such a child, Raoul. This isn’t about what you want. Do you want to be the one to bring shame to the de Chagny family name?”
“Is that why you’re so set on sending me on a suicide mission? You’re afraid I’ll sully the family name?”
Philippe ran his hand through his hair. “Of course I don’t want you to die, but you agreed to this! You were so excited to go two months ago.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, please don’t tell me that Daaé girl has gotten into your head again.”
“I want to marry her, Philippe.”
“You cannot marry her, Raoul. For fuck’s sake, she’s a common opera whore!”
Raoul flinched. “Don’t call her that.”
“Should I remind you that you yourself called her that merely a month ago when you were convinced she was seeing another man?”
“I was wrong.” So, so very wrong. But Raoul dared not burden his brother with that explanation.
Philippe huffed. “Enough is enough. If you see her again, don’t bother coming home. Ever.”
Raoul grabbed his coat, a white-hot fury coursing through his veins. “You can count on it.”
As he stepped out of the mansion, he pulled his coat on. Later, he would probably grieve the broken relationship with his brother. He didn’t even know if, in the end, Christine would have him for a husband.
Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe all that mattered was that he would be free to live his own life, not the life his brother had long ago mapped out for him.